


Fall, and Rise

by Bhelryss



Category: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Animal Death, Canon Typical Violence, F/F, and also some happy moments in between, but rest assured there is a happy ending, character death (probably not major but i will update the warning tags as needed), lotta pain between here and happy ending, skewing safe with the rating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-06-09 15:12:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19478509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bhelryss/pseuds/Bhelryss
Summary: “It’s been a long time, Empress,” Vanessa says, inclining her head as low as she can allow. She’s a, and she still grimaces to think of it, queen now.And queens don’t bow to their political equals the way a knight would to her liege. The way a knight would to her commander. The way Vanessa would bow to the holder of her heart.So she stands, and she makes the proper movements, and Vanessa looks.And the woman she sees on that throne is not the vibrant, kind eyed girl that Vanessa had fallen in love with. This isn’t even the grieving girl that Vanessa was forced to part with. This is someone new.She is wary of this person.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> whoo! so this is the first bit of setup for a queen vanessa / "fallen" empress eirika story.  
> there is. a lot of setup
> 
> gotta get that worldbuilding done
> 
> i hope we can all enjoy the journey together

The smoke stings at her eyes. It’s the smoke, that stings at her eyes so much that she cries, deep, heaving sobs. It’s the smoke that leaves her curled in on herself, knees pressed into the dirt, one hand tightly fisted and pressed against her face, a ragged cry tearing its way out of her chest. Her scream is loud in her own ears, and the smoke stings and stings. 

She can’t breathe, gasping and gasping and gasping, breaths coming fast and faster, shallow and shallower. There’s blood drying on her face, and turning tacky on her hands, and staining her boots. There’s so much blood on and around her, and one of her arms is broken, and that’s not the worst of it. That’s not the worst of it.

The smoke, the smoke. 

“-essa!” 

She can’t breathe, and her fisted hand shakingly uncurls as she reaches forward. There is mane under her fingers, and she can’t breathe. It’s the smoke, it’s the smoke. That’s why, that’s why. 

“-nessa!”

There is something searing and empty underneath her heart, and it burns and burns and burns. Her whole world is focused on that, and on what’s in front of her. Whatever else might be happening, beyond the burning and the smoke, she doesn’t know. She doesn’t care. 

“Titania,” Vanessa sobs, broken arm too painful fo her to shield Titania’s head with her body like she wants to. “No, please.” Her good hand keeps ghosting across Titania’s muzzle, her forehead. Touches the little feathers that begin growing just behind her ears. “Please,” she gasps, “don’t go.” Pleas that go unanswered, unheard. “Don’t leave me,” she begs, tears dripping down her face, dripping off her chin. “Titania,” she sobs, throat so tight it’s a whisper, “please.” A hand comes down too hard on her shoulder, and she shrieks at the touch. Her broken arm screams at her, and all she can do is gasp and let the smoke sting her eyes. 

“Vanessa, come on,” Eirika calls, expression tight and controlled. It’s not sympathy, irritation, or pity, it’s a look of stress. “We can’t stay here, I’m sorry.” Vanessa turns up her head, and helplessly gasps for air. It’s not the smoke, it’s something worse. Something so much worse, and it bleeds and screams and cries and burns. “We can’t stay here,” Eirika says again, and she holds out her hand. The same hand that had come down on her shoulder. “Vanessa,  _ please _ , I promise we’ll come back. I promise. We won’t leave her but we can’t stay  _ here _ .

“Please,” and this  _ is _ a plea, “get up.”

She blinks, and her tears don’t stop. Her vision is more than obscured, she can hardly see. There isn’t enough breath in her lungs, and she can hardly think. Get up? “I can’t leave her, I won’t.” A gaping hole in her sense of self where Titania used to be, and how can she go on? The other part of her soul is...she’s…Terror rises up in the face of Eirika’s outstretched hand. “No, no. I can’t, I can’t.”

Loneliness makes her cry all the harder. There is no other life beating in time with hers. How can she leave, how can she go on. Eirika’s face twists into something like anger, something like despair, something like determination.

“Get up.” Eirika orders. “Knight, get up.” Vanessa shudders, and looks at Eirika helplessly. There is something like regret in that expression, there is something like determination. “That’s an order, get up.” And despite herself, despite everything, she does. She gets up, broken arm cradled against her body, and yet she still cries. Nothing good remains in the world, and all that is left to Vanessa is her pain. Her Titania…

“Come with me,” Eirika says, offering again her gentle hand. “Please.” 

Vanessa takes that hand.

The battle was a disastrous loss, with only one bright flicker of hope. They lost Ser Gilliam, they lost knight Franz and the young thief, the young archer. Those civilians that the Grado commander had offered to the giant spiders lived, but they lost Father Moulder, and there were so many others wounded. Sister Natasha is a capable healer, but there is so much need and she is only one person. She needs rest between cycles of intense healing, so everyone makes do with the field care they know. It puts Vanessa in a sling, and vulneraries become a limited, desperately needed resource that dries up quickly. Vanessa holds two primary feathers in her good hand, and cries.

“Does your severed bond hurt so badly?” Lute asks, idly itching around the edges of her vulnerary poultice. A lucky bolt of  _ thunder _ magic had seared a line down her face, and Vanessa is certain there will be a scar. Lute’s eyes are bright, and her words are careful, but Vanessa still gasps around the question like it is a boot ground into a mortal wound.

“Yes,” she grits out, trying not to sob, trying not to rage. “Please, leave me alone.” Lute hums her acknowledgement, and disengages. Her soul still aches, all the harder for the pressure, and she holds her broken arm close in its sling and tries to regulate her breathing. In and out, faster and faster, two primary feathers clutched in her hand and a saddle in her tent. 

The bubble of distance she’d carefully crafted breaks, and she begins again. There is part of her soul missing, there is a fire that eats away the rest of her. She gasps, because her breaths are fast and shallow and she can’t breathe. Vanessa cries, hard and ugly, because she left. She left and Titania is gone.

Exhaustion sets in after that. The sobs and the tears dry up, and the ragged edge of the pain and grief feels dulled. The world is far away, and there is nothing worth paying attention to in it anyway. She closes her eyes and breathes, and lets the weight of her body keep her from falling away.

She’s tired, so tired, and her body aches. When she’d been thrown from Titania’s back and broken her arm the rest of her had also suffered. Bruises beyond counting are turning dark along her body, and there’s a worrying limp and a pain in her knee that won’t be seen to by a healer any time soon. Field medicine is so limited, but with Natasha’s healing leaving her exhausted, it’s almost the only thing they have.

Vanessa wakes up when something goes weird. She’d fallen asleep with her legs carefully stretched out, her broken arm resting in it’s sling across her torso, and her head pillowed on her saddle, with Titania’s feathers rest on the other side of the saddle, safe from any traffic and even from Vanessa herself. The waking is harsh, catapulting Vanessa from fitful nightmares to frightened awareness. She jars herself when she jackknifes up, the movement aching throughout her body, from bruises to her broken arm. It hurts, it hurts, though not as much as breathing hurts when her heart reaches out for its echo and finds nothing.  _ Nothing _ .

“Hey,” Eirika says, and she’s on her knees with one hand braced on her thigh for balance. Vanessa looks around to find a threat, to find the thing that woke her up, but all she can find is Eirika. Her face is wet, and she has the side of her hand pressed to her mouth. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” She scrubs away the wetness, and nods her head a little, “I’ll leave, you can go back to sleep.” 

Vanessa shifts until she’s in a more comfortable position, and she shakes her head. “No, don’t,” she knows what crying looks like. She sighs, and gropes quickly for Titania’s feathers. It hurts and burns and the fire of its loss will never be extinguished, but she still hands one of her two precious feathers to Eirika. “It, um.” 

She shrugs, and brushes it against her face as a demonstration. It feels like home, and some tears slip free despite her exhaustion. Of course, after a rest, Vanessa has found more tears to share. “Titania, she,” her voice breaks, and the feather brushes against her cheek for a long, quiet moment. “It’s comforting.” 

Eirika stares as she spins the stem between her fingers, and cautiously copies the movement. Vanessa watches, feather still brushing against her cheek, soaking in that echo of feeling loved. “Calming.” Vanessa states again, once Eirika has pulled the feather away from her face. Eirika knows, now, the way Vanessa knows. Vanessa’s tears still come, but it’s a gentler thing, now. She feels safe, with this feather against her face, she feels loved.

Eirika nods, and carefully hands the feather back. “Yes,” she agrees. “I can tell.” Her cheeks are dry, and her shoulders are not quite so tense. “Thank you.”

“Keep it,” Vanessa says, giddy with the comfort the feather gives her, and gracious with it. “She’ll help you, too.” Handing the feather back, Vanessa catches Eirika’s outstretching hand. “You deserve comfort,” she says, exhaustion still biting at the back of her eyes, even as tears still drip off her chin. “Princess,” and Eirika’s hand is warm under her own. Vanessa doesn’t know how to say what she feels. 

That someone should always care enough to witness the tears. Someone should always be there to witness the tears. A partner, a friend, a wingmate. Someone should. (Her heart wails, but there is a feather in her lap and that echo of love soothes it slightly.) Her wordlessness becomes frustrating. “I’m here.” 

Startled silence falls between them. “I,” Eirika says, taking the feather and holding it close to her heart. She blinks back tears, and she bows her head. “Thank you.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Natasha heals her arm, but her knee...the limp will stay. “Ideally,” Sister Natsha says, still looking worn through and exhausted, “I could have seen you right away.” But there had been so much chaos on the battlefield, and Ser Seth had needed hours of intense healing just to survive. Natasha’s attention had been monopolized, her energy consistently drained. She looks so tired.

“But you walked on it,” is the simple statement. “And you ran on it, and you, did you fight on it?” Vanessa shakes her head, grimacing. She’d been...little better than a doll, following on Eirika’s heels through a haze of tears and unceasing agony. She’d run, and she’d walked, and then Vanessa had straightened her legs out and waited through the night for Natasha to come find her. “Oh, good. Well, I’m sorry, Vanessa, but you’re going to have a limp, and it won’t ever hold your whole weight again.”

Vanessa puts her head in her hands. What good is she now, with an impaired leg and no pegasus. Oh, Titania. Tears itch at her eyes, and she holds her breath against the sick feeling spreading and burning throughout her chest. Why is this happening. Why is she so alone, why, why, why. Titania…Why is this happening.

“Oh, Vanessa, breathe. Okay? With me.” Natasha’s hands on her back rub soothing circles. And, horrifyingly, it works. Her breathing returns to normal, and once she can breathe, she can think. She can think, and she can shove most of her distress, her despair, her shattering grief and loneliness into an iron chest behind her heart. 

“I,” Vanessa says, when she can wipe all the tears off her face and not have them reappear like buzzard hovering over a dead kill. What can she even say? She’s not grateful, she’s not okay, and she might never be okay. “Okay,” she says anyway.

“As a knight,” Vanessa says, with as much detachment as she can manage, trying to find some way to keep from cracking apart, “what does that mean for me.” Can she still fight? King Hayden sent her personally to aid Princess Eirika. Can she still do that? “Are there any,” and she scrambles for the words she needs to say, “drills I can do to strengthen my leg? Can I still fight?” 

She can’t go back to Frelia now, she just can’t. Her duty remains, despite everything. Things are so dangerous, her skills are needed. Vanessa closes her eyes and tries to keep from crying again. It’s not fine, but she can’t fix it. She has to ignore it, she has to or else she will never stop crying. 

Natasha frowns, and shakes her head. “I don’t know of anything that will help you, I’m sorry.”

Vanessa curls up in her tent after, feather held gently in one hand. (Her hand threatens to clench around it, but her terror of breaking it eases her fingers and freezes her arm.) She hides her face, and ignores the burning in her knee. It protests the position, but she can’t bring herself to care. The physical discomfort helps distract her from...everything. Absolutely everything. Everything except the feather. She presses the softest part of it to her forehead, and the intensity of the ache loses some of its teeth. 

Comfort and love, love and comfort, the feather lays a sense of that over all the parts of Vanessa that ache and burn. It lets her steady her breathing, it lets her think. She’s loved, and she’s cared for and safe, even though the world is dark and bleak and the sun might never bring joy with it ever again. Her heart may fail and her pain might swallow her whole, but while she feels this love heavy on her shoulders she will not be lost.

But, still, the sun will fall, and rise, and Titania will never rise with it. And it will never be okay, and it will never stop hurting. But, she can probably still do her duty. She’ll never be a captain, like she dreamed, not of the skies. Vanessa will never fly a pegasus again, and her heart will never pair that way with another again. It is something to despair over, it is something to scream and cry and rail against.

She will be alone, forever.

“All I have left is my lance,” Vanessa tells the feather. Her lance, one good leg, the dead weight of an unused saddle, and her feather. A set of vows that might be broken, sealing her allegiance. her heart, and her lance to her king. Another set of vows, that might be just as broken, sealing her service to the princess.

Vanessa clenches and unclenches her fist, and brings her other hand to lay heavy on her bad knee. What is she now? What is she now. She lifts her head up, and considers the ceiling, eyes stinging and thoughts dragging. What else is there to do? A heavy exhale drains the rest of the tension from her shoulders, and Vanessa lets the feather fall away from her fingertips to rest on the ground. There is one more thing she has to find out.

Eirika is a lot harder to find than Vanessa had thought she would be, though. Vanessa searches through the crowded medic tents, and the area around the princess’ quarters. She finds Seth, who nods at her, and she finds Ross, who blinks at her with wide eyes. She waves at Ross, and nods back at Seth, and scowls to herself about her stuttering gait. It’s an embarrassment. It might never get better.

“I used to be quick on my feet.” She used to be a lot of things.

Ser Garcia (“It’s just Garcia.”) is the one who points her in the right direction. Eirika is sitting very quietly at the edge of the camp, as alone as she can get. Joshua is easy to spot, his vivid red hair giving away his position, close enough to protect but far enough away to preserve the pretense of solitude. The usual bodyguard thing, Vanessa assumes. 

“Princess,” and Vanessa hesitates, heartbeat racing. What if she hears what she’s afraid of.  _ Please _ , Vanessa thinks,  _ don’t send me back _ .  _ Please, I can still fight _ . “May I have a moment?”

“Oh, Vanessa,” Eirika says, getting to her feet. “Of course,” and she gestures for Vanessa to come closer. “I’m sorry, I was just thinking.” Her eyes are red, and Vanessa says nothing about it. These have been trying days, and Vanessa is not alone in her loss. Eirika’s face seems haunted, and Vanessa wishes she could wipe that away.

“I,” and she loses her nerve. Vanessa chokes on her words, and her silence gives Eirika the time to rearrange her face into something brighter, something more like the girl she’d met in King Hayden’s less public rooms. It is so manufactured, and Vanessa imagines it is a fragile thing. 

“I am unseated,” Vanessa says, finding her courage. She reaches for Eirika’s hand and shakily, painfully, takes a knee. It hurts so much, but she has to do this. She has to do this. “I am not the knight that was pledged to your service, and I,” and her voice breaks, “I am sorry for this.”  _ Please _ , she thinks. “I would promise you again my lance, if you will have me.

“I can still fight,” Vanessa promises, though she is uncertain. “I can still be of use to you.” It might be a lie, it could very well be a lie, and she hates to lie, but, “I promise, I can still aid you as my king wishes, as I hope to aid you.” 

Eirika’s expression changes, and Vanessa can’t accurately tell what it means. Eirika kneels too, both her knees pressed against the dirt. Put again on equal footing, Vanessa is once again much taller than the princess. “Vanessa, please.” It feels so weird, but Eirika’s eyes are so blue, so riveting. 

“I can only fight beside you, now,” Vanessa pleads, looking away from those expressive eyes, “but please say you’ll accept my service.”  _ Please _ . “Don’t send me from your side, I  _ will _ be useful. I will, I promise.”

“Vanessa,” Eirika says, and she grabs both of Vanessa’s hands and squeezes them gently. Vanessa watches her think, and dreads the response. “I won’t tell you to leave.” She blinks back sudden tears, and bows her head with intense, overwhelming gratitude. “You don’t even have to fight, if you don’t want. You don’t have to be useful to be worth having with us. Your vows still hold, of course you can stay.” 

She blinks against the burn of unshed tears, and looks back up at Eirika again. Those bright blue eyes telegraph sincerity and care, and Vanessa feels no guilt about crying all over again. “I’m sorry,” she says, wiping away the tears, and then wiping away the tears that flow up as replacements, “I can’t stop.” 

Eirika puts Vanessa’s hands in her lap, and squeezes them again. “It’s okay,” even though Vanessa knows’s it’s not okay. “It’s okay.” And Eirika never lets go, and she never pulls away. Not until Vanessa is ready to let go and leave. From the way Eirika seems to relax, this small contact must be comforting to them both.

_ Eirika’s heart must be so big _ , Vanessa thinks, flexing her hands and remembering how it felt to have Eirike hold them. It was nice...it felt nice. And her eyes had been so blue, how has she not noticed before? Why now? Why is she noticing this  _ now _ ?

Now, when she needs to be thinking about fighting. Thinking about how to use her lance with both her feet on the ground. It’s...she hasn’t done that in years. “I haven’t been infantry in years…” She tugs idly at her braid, picking it apart as she grows ever more worried. She starts rebraiding it anew, anxiety building. 

Ross pops her anxiety spiral by throwing himself down next to where she’s sitting. “Hey!” he says, tapping his fingers on her knee, the good one. “I have a question.” And he looks at her like she’s not red-eyed and injured, like she’s still an excellent flier and a knight trusted deeply by her king. He goes on without stopping, like a battering ram. “I want you to fight me.” 

Then he scrunches up his face, and backtracks. “Spar with me, I mean. Dad’s busy helping that Seth guy, and I need to practice so I can get better.” Then he looks grim, and Vanessa feels old. This is a boy, and he has an axe with a blade that’s bigger than his face, and he’s not done growing. This is a boy, and this war is stealing his childhood.

“Will you do it?”

She hesitates, and sighs. “I don’t think I’m the knight you’re looking for.” She can’t fly, she can’t run, if she steps too quickly and stretches her stride, her bad knee buckles. Her arms can still heft her lance, but the old forms are rusty and she is almost afraid of them.

“No, I want you.” Ross insists, firmly. “Dad says that your king sent you  _ specifically _ to help the princess. That’s amazing! You’ve got to be a really good knight, so I know you can help me get better.”

Vanessa sighs, and nods. “Forgive me,” she apologizes, “but I haven’t fought solely from the ground in years. It might take me a while to get back to where I used to be.” Maybe she’ll never get back to the skill she had before. Maybe this will make her knee worse, maybe it will make her knee better. Sister Natasha won’t know, and the only thing she stands to lose by trying is making things worse. A risky gamble, but she promised Princess Eirika her service.

Ross smiles, breaking Vanessa’s focus again, and jumps up to his feet. “Thanks! We’re both going to be great! You were already great but now we’ll be great together. My dad’s going to be so happy I’m improving.” He holds out his hand, and waits for Vanessa to take it.

“Hey, can we start by teaching me some of those knight stretches?

She blinks, sighs, and reaches out to take that hand. “They’re not specific to knights,” she corrects, pretending Ross is a helpful counterweight while she stands. “But I can teach you some.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little bit more vanessa/eirika interaction, some more angst
> 
> progress!

The uneasy quiet that follows them from that terrible battle breaks all at once. Monstrous cries can be heard in the woods, away from all their scouts’ eyes. Vanessa tenses up, suddenly broken out of her empty-minded march, looking for Princess Eirika, for Ser Seth, anticipating commands, but Ross stops chattering at her side, and he looks for his father. There are no orders, because almost as soon as Eirika calls them all to arms, the monsters are upon them.

The battle is chaotic, and it’s awful, but at least it doesn’t last very long.

Artur, bright with his  _ lightning _ , draws almost all of the monsters’ attention and holds it. He’s deadly like this, searing the darkness away and blessing the bones of the revenants, in a way he isn’t outside of battle. He’s gentle, and Vanessa would mourn that too if she weren’t so busy keeping herself alive.

Ross is there, at her side, when she overstretches herself and her knee buckles. He parries the sword coming down on her, screaming to keep his courage, and buys her enough time to lurch back onto her feet. It hurts, when she gets back up, but she is a knight. She is a knight, and she has done worse than fight while hurting. She has, but oh, it  _ hurts _ .

When the bonewalker is dead again, just bones on the ground and a rusted sword left behind, she stops putting weight on her knee. It hurts, even like this, but Ross is there at her side with his wide eyes and his too-big axe and she needs to rest if they mean to keep fighting together. She needs to focus. If only Titania were here-

Vanessa’s breaths turn shallow, and quicker. If only Titania were here, if only she could rely on her other heart. If only she weren’t alone, if only she wasn’t doomed to be alone forever. Her knuckles turn white around her grip on her lance, and Vanessa blinks back tears with minimal success. Titania, oh. Titania. If only it didn’t hurt so much to breathe. If only the smoke didn’t hurt her eyes. She’s so alone, and she can’t breathe. She can’t breathe.

“Ser Vanessa,” Ross says, tugging on her tunic. She shakes herself, gasping and face wet, and he tugs again. “I don’t…” He bites at his lower lip, and looks troubled. She can’t breathe. “Are you? Um.” He looks away, out and around. “Um.” While she struggles with her breathing, Ross keeps an eye out around them. Keeping the perimeter, and her the knight, and isn’t that awful. Isn’t that terrible.

Titania…

“I think we gotta go,” Ross says quietly, and she has to struggle to hear him over the sound of her heart, her lungs, her tears. “Um, don’t you think?” The field isn’t clear, yet, but their fight here is done. “Right?” And he looks at her, and there’s dirt on his cheek and a bloody mess down his arm. 

And she blinks until her vision is clear, and she presses a fist over her heart and breathes and breathes and breathes. Breathes even though it hurts, even though she feels like shaking apart, even though her body feels stiff. She can’t think, but she breathes. Maybe one day that will be enough to shake the fear, the desperation, the burning loneliness away. Maybe one day.

“Yes.” She agrees, though her voice shakes. She nods, though a scream is building up from between her lungs. She takes a step, but her legs don’t respond easily, so she stumbles. Ross walks circles around her, eyes wide and open, and Vanessa takes it one step at a time. That’s all she’s capable of. One step, a struggle to keep her breathing even and wipe away a new set of heavy, ugly tears, another step. Her lance bears all the weight her bad knee won’t, and she takes it one step at a time.

When they close the gap to the rest of their little army, Ross runs off. Vanessa stops, and bends over at the waist, and finally lets herself crumple. She can’t breathe, she can’t walk, she can feel her chest grow smaller, smothering all the life and air out of her. Her hands are locked in place, fingers curled and unmoving, and she can’t breathe. She can’t. She can’t even think.

Natasha puts a hand to the back of Vanessa’s neck, and counts out breaths. “It’s okay,” she promises, and Vanessa lets the lie stand. “You’re safe,” she says, and Vanessa tries to believe it. It works though. Her thoughts come back, her fingers find flexibility again, and her lungs fill fully when she takes in ragged breaths. “Are you hurt?” Natasha asks, hand still heavy on Vanessa’s back. 

“Her knee, I think.” Ross offers, when Vanessa hesitates. She hadn’t realized he’d come back...was he the reason why Natasha had come? Shame slides down her throat and she looks away. He is the child, and she is the knight, and she failed him. She failed him.

The healing is brief, because there’s nothing  _ new _ that’s wrong, after all. She exerted herself too much, and that’s why her knee burns and why it hurts. “There’s nothing more I can do for your knee, Vanessa. I’m sorry.” She frowns, and Vanessa’s stomach twists.  _ Please don’t say it _ . “It’s not safe for you to keep fighting like this. Have you considered-”

“I’m not retreating.” Vanessa says firmly, before Natasha can finish her sentence. “I can’t.” She gave her word to her king, she vowed her service to princess Eirika. Even though she’d promised her uncle that she would keep her own safety in mind, she would much rather die fighting than be relegated to a guard on their supply train.

With a sigh, Natasha rubs at the back of her neck. She still looks tired, keeping them all alive and ready to fight and defend is draining her energy away. She still looks like a ghost, worn thin. “Okay,” she says. There’s nothing else to say, after that. “Ross?”

“I’m fine!” he promises, “You already saw the worst of it, and my dad gave me some stuff for the scrapes.” He smiles, and lifts a bandaged arm up as evidence. Natasha nods, and excuses herself. The healer’s tent has plenty of people left for her to treat and see to, and Ross and Vanessa no longer need her attention. Once left alone, Ross throws himself to a seat on the ground next to Vanessa. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Vanessa says, with her eyes closed. 

He hums, maybe in denial, and pulls his knees close to his chest. “I was scared,” he admits. “But you’re okay, and I’m okay. That’s good enough for me.” He pauses, and Vanessa opens her eyes. “Do you think we need to do those knight stretches now?” Ross has a little smile on his face, like he’s not mad at her, or disappointed. 

Oh, but how she’s disappointed herself.

“Probably,” Vanessa allows, exhausted. She just wants to lay still, here in the open air. Safe, for a value of safe. Okay, for a value of okay. She used to have more stamina. She used to find joy in the sunlight, and she used to have another heart beating in time to hers. Vanessa looks at Ross, his little smile and his eager attention, and feels afraid.

Free of his attention and fully stretched out, Vanessa limps over to the healer’s tent. Natasha’s eyes are heavily shadowed, and it smells like blood and stinks of magic. If she can’t fight the way she’s used to, if she can’t stand evenly on her own feet and defend the people around her, maybe Vanessa can learn to heal. To be bonded with a pegasus, and Vanessa spends a while crying quietly into her hands at the thought, was to pair your magic with theirs. Maybe, maybe she can do this. Maybe she can help.

Natasha puts her on bandage duty. Ripping apart cloth and applying it to wounds. Artur’s neck, temporarily discolored by a Mogall’s magic, gets swathed in cool, damp bandages. “To help with the swelling,” Artur explains hoarsely, while Vanessa frowns at the bandages. When the light dies, sun sinking behind the trees and sending the world into twilight, Natasha comes back with a healing stave.

“We’ll just try. It’s hard, the first time, but if you can get any light from it I can teach you. You just have to concentrate, the stave will channel if without conscious thought.”

Vanessa holds it in her hands, nervous and shaking. It’s warm, and that gives her hope. She hopes, and she concentrates, and she produces no light. She despairs, and she concentrates, and she produces no light. She concentrates, and concentrates, and concentrates before she gives up and hands Natasha back the stave. She doesn’t have the magic.

She doesn’t have the magic.

Closing her eyes tight, expression screwed up to keep the tears and the crying at bay, Vanessa closes her fists around her tunic. “It’s okay,” Natasha says, not touching her. “I can still use your help.” She sounds so tired. “Healing is hard.”

Healing is hard.

It isn’t a comfort. The knowing sears against her lower ribs, burns at her lungs. It eats up all the breath left in her, and her retreat is stumbling and empty. There is no magic left in her life. Titania took all the magic in Vanessa’s life with her when she left, and Vanessa is alone. She is alone.

A need for privacy drives her to the edge of camp. The fires don’t reach this far, so Vanessa looks out into the woods and sees nothing.There’s nothing there, and she is alone. So she cries. She keeps her knees drawn up close to her chest, and cries. When she runs out of tears, she simply sits there quietly and looks out into the dark. 

Vanessa can hear footsteps behind her, and doesn’t turn to look. Whoever it is will make themselves known, or they will spot her and leave, or Vanessa will be the one who gets up and leaves. She’s too tired to move though, so it’s terribly unlikely for her to be the one leaving. She only has the energy to hold Titania’s feather against her ear, drawing comfort from its nearness.

“Oh, Vanessa,” Eirika greets, coming to a stop by Vanessa’s shoulder. Just close enough to see in periphery, but far enough to be polite. “Is,” and she hesitates long enough that Vanessa bothers to turn her head for a better look, “do you mind if I sit?” When Vanessa shrugs, Eirika finds a seat. She pulls her knees up to her chest, and the two of them sit quietly together.

Vanessa breaks the silence. “I can’t heal.” Her voice crackles when she speaks, and sounds too loud in her own ears. “I tried,” she whispers. “But Titania took all of the magic in my life with her.” Burying her head in her arms, Vanessa shivers with the urge to scream, the urge to cry. “I thought, maybe, I could do it without her. To, to help.” But she couldn’t.

There is only her lance, then. All she has left to her is her lance. 

“I don’t know what to do without her,” Vanessa admits. “I don’t know how to  _ be _ without her.” Her whole world had changed, the moment they’d found each other. Her whole world has changed again, from the moment Vanessa lost her. “She and I...we were made for each other. I’d never felt so loved before, before I met her. I’ve..I’ve never felt so lost, now. Not even when my father was dying, and there were no easy ways to save him.”

Silence falls uneasily between them, Vanessa too tired to cry and Eirika simply sitting. The company is nice, but shame is bubbling up from her core. She’s said too much, told too much. Princess Eirika, and Vanessa has bared her heartache. Princess Eirika, and Vanessa has admitted her uselessness. 

“I don’t know what to do without my brother, my father.” Eirika says, voice clear. “I only learned swordplay as a hobby, something fun to do with my brother. I loved it,” she admits. “I loved the way sparring with the knights made my blood sing. It was fun.

“My father, he thought it was fun too. Teased me, called me his sword princess.”

Eirika pauses, breathes, leans forward to hide her face in her arms. “I don’t know how to fight, not like this. Killing people, killing people to save other people...I’m  _ glad _ , when it’s monsters. And not monsters pretending to be people.”

“It’s easier,” Vanessa agrees. “I never thought I would fight like this either. I thought...I thought my life would be bandits sometimes, mostly working on army projects, and working with my sister-knights to keep Frelia safe.” She sighs, and picks up her head. Eirika’s looking back at her, and the lack of light saps all the color out of Eirika. Vanessa imagines she isn’t different, that they’re just two dark shadows pretending to be girls.

“I don’t know how to be a commander.” Eirika says. “I rely on Seth and Ser Garcia, but I don’t know how to lead the way they do.”

“I don’t know how to be alone.” Vanessa says, “I hardly remember a time where I was just a knight, without a pegasus.” 

“You’re not alone,” Eirika says fiercely. “You have me- Ross seems really fond of you, and you have the rest of us. Sister Natasha likes you, too. You’re not alone.”

“Do you remember,” Vanessa says, when she’s done being stunned, “when you came for me. When Titania…that time. When you called my name and got me to follow you?” Even though everything in her had wanted to lay down and die with the other part of her heart.

“Yes,” Eirika responds, and Vanessa can hear the question.

“You called my name, and you told me to get up.” Up, knight. “You commanded me to get up.” Knight, get up. Oh, her heart hurts, her eyes ache. “That’s how you command. However you did that, that’s how you command.”

“Oh…”

“Do you want me to get up?” Vanessa asks, when Eirika doesn’t say anything else. She’d honestly rather just sit quietly in the dark with Eirika, but she’s not a princess. She’s only a knight. Vanessa will do whatever Eirika asks, of course, but she’d prefer to spend these quiet moments with her. For whatever reason, she’d just like to sit here with Eirika.

“No, please don’t go. Not yet.” 

“Oh, okay.”


	4. Chapter 4

Monsters nip at their heels, like they can smell the exhaustion of their little army. Irregular waves of attacks keeps Natasha dizzy from healing, keeps everyone tense. Nobody sleeps easily, and some of them don’t sleep at all. It’s hard, and none of them have much hope.

Vanessa hardly sleeps. Nightmares fill her nights, and emptiness fills her days. Some are better than others, but her nights are all the same. Ross, when he’s not bouncing around the camp or holding close to his father, keeps at her side. He talks at her sometimes, because she’s hardly capable of engaging with him, and sometimes he just walks. A small part of her is very glad for his company, a bandage placed on the terrible loneliness that is curled painfully around her shoulders.

Fighting is awful, and grows more awful with every attack. Everyone grows more tired, everyone grows more despairing, and Natasha spends every free moment she can dig up asleep. It’s hard on them all, and Princess Eirika seems to be taking it hard. She has dark circles under her eyes and a pinch to her expressions that Vanessa thinks is shame. There’s nothing any of them can do to ease her burden, and Vanessa  _ has _ tried to think of a way. They are in dire straits, and Vanessa can’t think of any way to help.

She has a hard enough time taking care of herself.

They go into battle again, when the creatures finally show themselves. Vanessa is beginning to hate the sight of trees, because experience is showing them how easy it is for fiends to slink out of the shadows, how  _ many _ monsters a single stretch of forest can hide. Ser Garcia stands in front of Natasha like a shield, batting aside any creatures hounding after their most defenseless member. Lute, with her keen eyes and her scarred face, sears away anything that thinks range will save their life long enough to snuff out another’s.

Artur again pulls attention, bright with his magic. In the shadows cast by the unnatural light, Joshua proves again his skill with a blade. Ser Seth charges after the biggest monsters, keeps them at bay with all the skill of a paladin general. 

Vanessa, by contrast, fumbles through old infantry forms, reacting rather than attacking. Ross is more helpful than she would like to admit, guarding her weak side when she overstretches. “Oh! Left!” Ross cries, planting his feet and hacking at a bonewalker’s lance. It splinters, and Ross imbeds his axe into its skull. He freezes up as it falls, eyes wide. He’s yet to come to terms with killing, even for monsters, and Vanessa half wishes he would hurry up and acclimatize. 

It would be so much easier to guard him, if he didn’t spend so long finding horror in his own actions. 

She hates herself for thinking like that.

On her left another revenant schlurps forward, lurching under the weight of the decaying flesh that clings reluctantly to the bones that support it. It smells rotten, more so than any of the other’s she’s fought, and it takes hardly any effort to put it down. “Oh, gross!” Ross comments, bent over and trying to dislodge his axe from the bones.

“That one was  _ really _ stinky, and they all stink  _ real _ bad.” 

It startles a chuckle out of her, and she pauses a moment to wonder at it. There’s still humor in the world, even though she’s all alone? Even though she’ll always be alone? When she looks to Ross, he’s beaming at her. “You laughed!”

“I do that sometimes,” Vanessa admits. Not recently, and she’d thought never again. It’s a weird thing, to know she can still laugh.

“I was  _ funny _ .” he brags. With a grunt the axe comes free, and the force he used to do it knocks him over. Ross blinks up at her from the ground, axe in hand, and smiles. “I’m  _ hilarious _ . I didn’t even make a joke!”

For a moment, she’s almost tempted to shoot back “You are the joke,” but he’s not Syrene. Syrene would laugh, and nod, and shoot something equally teasing back, but she’s sure that Ross would take it wrong. So she shrugs instead, and leans on her lance.

“We need to keep moving.” Artur’s light, painting the trees around him white, is fading. Whatever is happening, and she thinks it is a retreat, is that way. In this place, in the shadows, they are vulnerable. They let themselves go too far, Vanessa let her despair drive her after the things shuffling in the dark that hadn’t come forward just yet, and had let Ross chase after her heels. “We have to go back.”

“Okay!” Ross agrees, breathing in deeply and exhaling forcefully. He squints at the dying light, and nods. “Yeah, we should go.” Then he looks to her, and looks terribly young. “Do you think something bad happened?”

“No.” And that was sharper than she intended. “I think the fight is over, that’s all.” With one hand, she makes a shoo-ing motion. “I’ll watch your back.” He looks reassured, and that puts a little bit of her pride back into place. She’s still a reliable knight, even though she can’t fight effectively anymore. She’s can still make people feel safe.

She feels more like herself.

The fight is not over, when they get back. A mogall slides off Eirika’s sword, and for a heart wrenching moment, she is alone and surrounded. Vanessa lunges forward and her knee buckles, but her body does exactly what she told it to. With a sputtering spin, the legs go out from under two bonewalkers, and they click horribly as their bones crash together in their tumbling fall. Ross crashes into a mogall, a full body tackle that leaves both parties unhurt. 

Eirika’s rapier pierces that mogall, and it deflates as its eye glazes over. Ross rolls up onto his knees, then scrambles to his feet. One of Lute’s firebolts crashes into a revenant, and some of that magic splashes up. The princess screams as some of that rebounding magic burns a streak up her arm, but after a moment the power fueling the fire is spent. All that is left is an ugly burn and terrible pain.

Ross freezes again, turned towards his princess with something like terror on his face. Vanessa is the only one still able to focus and fight, and her range is so limited, now. Sweat drips down her face from her bangs, close enough to obscuring her vision that she’s nervous. This is more difficult than she hopes she lets on, and her knee hurts. It burns.

Pain is meant to let you know something’s broken.

Her knee is as mended as it can be, and there’s nothing else to be done.

She ignores it.

What were the old forms again? Step, thrust, turn and retreat in order to stab forward again. What was the old footwork? The one supposed to keep you centered and keep you from falling over with the weight of your weapon? Fuck, but she’s forgotten so much of this. Fuck, but she has to keep trying.

Artur’s white light is replaced with the there and gone firelight of Lute’s magic. In the moments between, the world is poorly lit. The sun has fallen below the treeline, and it’s so hard to see. “What happened to Artur,” Ross whispers, holding his axe in front of him and gamely holding a position on Eirika’s other side. Vanessa has chosen for herself a wide area to defend, and she feels brittle. Like anything might snap her in two, as if she were an old lance. Between the two of them they have to keep the princess safe, until she can shake off the pain and hold up her sword again.

“I don’t know,” Vanessa admits. 

“Oh,” Ross says. 

Night battles are hell. They’d been lucky, until now. Crepuscule battles that ended quickly, the dim light of pre-dawn merely the opening shot of fights that could last until the sky was high in the sky. Monsters bold without the sun to slow them, Vanessa feels stupid for not considering this could happen.

And then it’s all over. The surviving mauthe doogs slink back into the shadows, the last mogall is jelly on the ground, and the revenants and the bonewalkers are still on the ground. Vanessa breathes heavily, leans even more heavily on her lance, and Ross falls backward and stares at the stars. It’s a beautiful night.

It’s a beautiful night.

Eirika hisses, and tips her head back to the sky as well. “Princess,” Vanessa calls hesitantly, unsure of herself. For a knight, Vanessa knows what she would do. Help her sister across the field, find a healer and wait. But this isn’t a friendly spar, and this is no cleanly broken arm. Natasha is exhausted, and Vanessa doesn’t even know if she lives. They can’t rely on a healer being there to greet them, when they return.

Something has to done now. Right now.

“Princess Eirika,” Vanessa calls again, this time more sure of herself. She has bandages in her kit, a flask of something alcoholic as an emergency disinfectant, and a hazy memory of her mother treating her child self’s burned fingers. She can do this much, right here. “Ross, are you okay?”

Ross calls out a tired, “Yeah.”

That’s...that’s good. That’s excellent. Vanessa herself is fine, or as fine as she can be, so that just leaves the princess. With her kit in hand, Vanessa takes a knee in front of Eirika. She’s a knight, she knows how this goes. “Princess,” she calls again. “I have something for your burns.”

Eirika’s whole body seems tense, which Vanessa deeply understands. It’s hard to unclench around your hurts, and it hurts terribly sometimes, to unclench around your hurts. But eventually you have to, if you want to heal. And Eirika has to unclench  _ now _ , even if she doesn’t want to. This little bubble of peace might pop at any moment, and there might not be anyone who can help when they rejoin everyone else. 

“Princess,” Vanessa says again. “Eirika.” 

“Y..yes.” Erika answers. “I, ah.” She takes a second to breathe, but she doesn’t relax. “Yes. Oh,” and Eirika tips her head down to see Vanessa on her knee, “what?” Pain must have closed her ears, but she’s focused now. Good, it’s good that she can still focus.

“Your burn. I can take care of it now, until we get back to Sister Natasha.” If Natasha is there. Artur’s light had gone out, she’s not certain at all of who is still standing. For Princess Eirika’s sake, she hopes everyone is fine. For Ross, she hopes Ser Garcia is safe. For herself…

“May I?” Vanessa asks, rather than continue thinking.

“Please,” she answers, and instead of Vanessa rising, Eirika sits. She holds out her arm slowly, and Vanessa can’t even imagine how much it must hurt. “At least it’s not my sword arm,” Eirika says, a wobbly joke. Nobody laughs, but neither does anyone mention the tears on her face. Pain means something is broken, and this...this Vanessa can fix. 

A little.

“This is going to hurt,” Vanessa warns, before she turns over her flask. Eirika yells, and tries to jerk away, but Vanessa doesn’t let go, not until she’s done. “I’m sorry,” she promises, letting Eirika go, “but it had to be done. I’m just going to wrap this up, okay? It shouldn’t hurt too much.”

Eirika takes a moment to resettle, and she spends long enough staring at Vanessa’s hands that Vanessa consciously uncurls her fingers. Her hands lay flat on her own thighs, unthreatening. There’s nothing here that will hurt, except for bandages on damaged skin. There’s nothing here that seeks to do her harm.

“Okay,” and offers her arm again. This time Vanessa’s touchi is light, and eventually Eirika stops tensing up like she expects to be held back again. “Thank you,” she says, even though Vanessa caused her more pain, even though Vanessa is not the knight promised to her, even though maybe this isn’t even necessary. Maybe Sister Natasha is only just beyond those trees, and all of this pain is for nothing.

Or maybe she’s right, and this keeps Princess Eirika from infection.

“I,” Vanessa says, trying to find any words to respond, “it is my pleasure.” Without any more bandages to apply, Vanessa just holds Eirika’s hand. They sit in the dark, holding hands, and look up at the sky. The stars are beautiful, but they are cold and far away. It’s a beautiful night.

Ross hears it first. “Someone’s coming!” He scrambles up, and hovers just behind Eirika’s shoulder. “Someone’s coming, I heard it, from the trees.” He sounds scared, and Vanessa lets go first, turning quick for her lance. Eirika sucks in a breath, and reaches for her sword. 

It’s just Seth, coming through the forest on the back of his horse. “Lady Eirika?” He calls, loud and unafraid. “Princess Eirika?” Ross sighs hard, and so does Vanessa. It’s just Seth. Thank the saint, it’s just Seth. When Vanessa’s lance hits the ground again, it becomes clear that Seth has found them.

“Princess Eirika, are you well?” He dismounts fluidly, and Vanessa is something like jealous. Something like angry. Something unlike any of those emotions. Within a moment, he’s there at Eirika’s side, hands almost touching her shoulders. When he spots the bandage, he takes up her hand, inspecting the wrapped burn. “I’ll have Sister Natasha look at this, do you have any other injuries?”

“Vanessa took care of me,” she says firmly, shaking off his grip. “I’m well enough.” Vanessa, for her part, shifts uneasily from side to side. “I’m fine, Vanessa has me.” Eirika holds out a hand to Vanessa, and Vanessa comes. What else is she to do?

“I have her.” Vanessa confirms. “Ross and I will see her safely to camp.”

Seth considers her, and nods sharply, like he’s unhappy. “I will see you there, then. Do hurry,” he commands, “The woods aren’t safe.” Like they didn’t just fight here, like they didn’t just bleed here.

“The woods aren’t safe,” Ross mimics, once the sounds of Seth’s horse have muffled. “The woods aren’t safe!” He skips ahead a little, turns around, and mimics riding a horse. “The woods aren’t safe!”

Vanessa laughs despite herself, and offers him her lance. With a grand smile, Ross brandishes it. “The woods aren’t safe!” He blows a raspberry, and returns the lance. “We  _ did _ just fight here,” he complains. “Right, Princess Eirika?”

She has the back of one hand pressed against her lips, and she nods. With a little cough, she speaks in a deep voice, “The woods aren’t safe.” Ross takes this in with something Vanessa thinks might be reverence and she has to stop to spend a little while choking back a laugh. She coughs until it passes.

“You’re my favorite,” Ross promises. “You are my favorite.” He sticks out a thumb towards Vanessa, “You’re her favorite too.” For a moment, both Ross and Eirika look at Vanessa. She feels the weight of expectation on her, as they both turn their heads to her.

“The woods aren’t safe,” she growls out, hesitantly. 

“YES!” Ross cries, jumping up. He has so much energy, and Vanessa is something like tired. She sighs, and continues walking. Princess Eirika keeps an easy pace next to her, and Vanessa wonders if she would do the same if Vanessa still had two good legs, instead of just the one. 

She hopes it would be the same. “Are you truly well, Princess?” Vanessa asks, keeping her eyes on Ross. He’s tripping over forest debris, cackling as he continues to mimic Seth’s parting words. It’s cute, and tiring.

“I am, all thanks to you.”

Vanessa hums, and then lets the silence swallow them up. Living is easier when she doesn’t have to think, and she’s done so much being in the moment, today. While walking, Vanessa daydreams about the feather in her bag waiting her. Soon, she’ll be back there. Soon, she can just lie down and let the day slip past her unheeded.

She’s tired, in so many ways.

Eirika touches her elbow, and Vanessa snaps out of her fog. “Look.”

“Almost there!” Ross cries, and then he sprints ahead.

Suddenly, the camp is just there. The undergrowth thins, the trees grow farther apart, and gentle firelight bleeds out into the dark like a small dawn. Vanessa sees it and thinks to herself,  _ I’m almost home _ . “I should go see if Sister Natasha is free,” Vanessa says, considering the risk a longer stride might pose. “What I have done is no replacement for a healer.”

“You’ve done fine,” Princess Eirika says. “We’ll go together.”

They go together, and Sister Natasha is there. She lived, and she’s touching up Ross’ scrapes with some disinfectant she cooked up. The ways of a healer are a mystery, and they are a miracle. “Princess Eirika! Oh, Ser Seth told me you would be coming, please, come and sit. I will be right with you.” With a little more prodding, she pronounces Ross done, and sends him off to his father. 

Vanessa steps away, but Eirika extends out a hand, and Vanessa comes. What else is she to do? “Don’t go.” Eirika says, and Vanessa understands the command.

“I treated her burn, but it was just standard fare.” Vanessa reports, standing at Eirika’s side. She doesn’t admit that she was sure Natasha was dead. That’s the sort of thing you keep to yourself. “I didn’t dare to leave it as it was.”

Natasha nods, and rubs at her eyes. She looks so tired, and Vanessa can commiserate. She’s not sleeping much either. “Okay, let’s have a look.” Under the hands of a capable, magical healer, Princess Eirika’s wound shrinks from something ugly and hurting, to something less raw, something less terrible. Eirika lets loose a stuttering sigh, and when Natasha legs go of her arm, she seems content to be left there. “Better,” Natasha pronounces, and she sounds so tired.

“Thank you,” Eirika says, and she sounds so tired.

“I’ll see her out,” Vanessa says, because Natasha looks so much  _ more _ tired. “Can I help you, when I come back?” 

“Thank you, Vanessa, but no. I think I’m going to go lie down...I feel light headed, all of a sudden. But in the morning? I could use your help.” She looks almost like she might laugh, and then she sighs. “Between you and Joshua, I’m sure I’ll have plenty of hands.”

Once she’s gone, Vanessa offers Eirika her arm. The night outside the tent is dark, even with the fire just around the corner. The stars are bright, and Vanessa is ready to sleep, ready to curl up around her saddle, and brave the nightmares.

Eirika pauses, and looks off towards the fire. “Do you mind if we sit, just a while?” 

“I,” Vanessa says, and she’s thinking of her bedroll, her feather, her empty silence. “Sure.” They sit, and Vanessa stares at the fire as long as she can before blinking, and then she does it again.

“I know it’s late,” Eirika says, “but I just, I’m not ready.” The fire crackles, and it doesn’t sound merry. There’s nothing merry about it, but the stars are bright in the sky. It’s a beautiful night. Vanessa understands not wanting to sleep, maybe too well. Her tent can wait, can’t it? Her nightmares will still be there when she goes.

“You know,” Eirika says, almost a whisper, “when I was little, Ephraim and I would play this game. We’re identical, you see, and until I started growing my hair out, it was so easy for us to trick other people. My father always seemed to know, but nobody else was ever as good as he was.

“It was fun, this one time.” And Eirika pulls her knees up to her chest, and stares deep into the fire. “This one time, we,” and she exhales like she might laugh instead, “well, he, stole snacks out of Ser Waldar’s saddlebags. He used to keep sugar cubes there, for his horses. So many sugar cubes.

“Ephraim stole all of them, shoved them into his shirt and ran right up to our rooms. He said, ‘Eirika! I need you to be me!’ So I pulled my shirt out from under my belt, and i stood just like him. Ser Walder got so confused, you know, but I didn’t have the sugar cubes. So he scratched at his head, and went away looking for me, to see if I’d been the one he spotted leaving.

“It was a silly game.” Eirika says to her knees.

“When I was little,” Vanessa says, into the quiet left behind, “my sister and I went to stay our cousins. Mother was staying back with my father, he was just recovering from an illness, but she still thought we should go. We did this every couple of years, going up to the capitol, playing. Syrene was learning how to fly, but I was more excited to chase my cousin around the yard with a stick. He was so frustrated when he lost, he frowned, and he just dared me try again. ‘Try again, Vanessa,’ he’d say. ‘This time I’ll get you.’

“He did, though. Every time I won, he’d practice and practice until he was better than me. Tana and I, we used to laugh about it.”

“Tana?”

“Yeah, my cousin. She and Syrene have always been close, they’ve been flying much longer than I have. I was too happy to chase Innes around with a stick, or a rock...we were silly kids, and I was tall. He never could outrun me. Still can’t outrun me! I’m still taller than him.

“It was so fun, doing that. Running, I mean. I used to love running. It was something like flying, back before I ever learned to actually fly. It was so fun.” looks looked up at the sky, and notes every star she can see above the rising smoke.

It’s a beautiful night.

“Do you want to go, now?”

“It is late…”

“Can I tell you another?”

“You always have my ear, Princess.”

“You can just call me Eirika.”


End file.
